Satisfaction Guaranteed
by reptilia28
Summary: Taylor Hebert has had a bad day. But just as she reaches her low, she finds a number that could hold the key to her salvation. "Your wish has been received."


" _Goddammit!_ "

A fist smacked ineffectively against a tarnished tiled bathroom wall. The owner of the fist, one Taylor Hebert, continued to grind it into the wall, her vision blurred with tears of anger and frustration.

Today had been the tryouts for music class at Winslow High. However, considering how poor the school was, if someone wanted to play anything fancier than one of those cheap plastic recorders, they would have to bring their own instrument. Taylor had brought a flute. It wasn't particularly valuable, but it had once belonged to her late mother, so it held a great deal of sentimental value to her. After tryouts she had secured it in her locker before heading to her next class, but when she opened it again later that day, the flute was missing!

And Taylor had a pretty good idea who was behind it: Emma Barnes. At one time the two girls were best of friends, but around the time they started high school Emma had dropped Taylor like she was radioactive and then spent the better part of a year treating her like scum. Thus far Emma had restrained herself to cutting remarks, but she had no problems using secrets from their time together as fodder for her taunts, and she was the only one that knew just how much the flute meant to her. Taylor knew that Emma was involved somehow. Even if she didn't actually commit the act of stealing herself, she was one of the popular girls; it would have been easy to have one of her stooges do the deed for her.

What frustrated Taylor was that she didn't have even a shred of proof to back up her suspicions. If there was something, _anything_ , that showed that her locker had been tampered with, then she might have a chance, however slim. But her locker and the padlock used to secure it both showed no signs of damage and she was certain that none of the other students knew her combination; everything inside was the way it was before, barring the conspicuous lack of her mother's flute.

Heaving a resigned sigh, Taylor lowered her hand and stepped into one of the stalls. Clutched in her other hand was a brown paper bag containing a sandwich and a bottle of orange juice. Taylor knew that the girl's restroom wasn't the most comfortable or clean of places to eat her lunch, but at least here she could avoid Emma and her roving band of flunkies.

The walls of the stall were covered with graffiti of all sorts, but as Taylor ate her lunch, she noticed a new addition that seemed to draw her attention. At about eye level, scrawled in permanent marker were the words:

 **Got problems that need solving? Call Yato Consulting!**

Below it was a string of digits - a phone number.

Taylor found herself tempted for a moment, but quickly shook it off. It was probably a prank left by one of the other students and the number led to a sex hotline or something. And besides, even if she did want to call the number, she didn't have a cell phone on her. She tried to shove it from her mind, but as she ate she still found herself sending glances at the message.

She thought that that would be the end of it, but through the rest of her day, Taylor found the same message and number everywhere. She found it spray painted onto one of the walls of the school, scribbled onto a piece of paper and tacked to a bulletin board, and spray painted again on the side of the school bus she took home. Whoever this Yato person was, they _really_ wanted someone to call them. No one else seemed to find the blatant advertising worthy of comment, if they even noticed it at all.

When Taylor got off the bus and saw _yet another_ advertisement for Yato Consulting, this time stapled to a telephone pole, she sighed. Taylor had never been particularly religious, but if she was seeing all these ads promising to help with her problems on the worst day of her life, then maybe it was a sign that she should check it out. As long as she didn't leave any identifying information, what would be the harm in just calling the number?

She ripped the ad off the wooden beam and walked over to a nearby payphone. She fed two quarters into the machine and slowly dialed the number written on the paper. Her breath had a nervous shudder to it as she heard the line ring.

"You've reached the great god Yato, how can I help you today?" a cheery male voice said on the other line.

After a few seconds of silence, Taylor slammed the phone back onto its cradle while shaking her head. What was she thinking, calling some stranger's number? Mentally slapping herself for doing something so stupid, she turned to go home.

"You know, it's rude to call someone just to hang up on them," she heard from behind her. With a startled shriek she spun around to see an Asian man in his mid-twenties. He had piercing blue eyes, so bright that they almost seemed to glow in the dimming evening light. The rest of his attire, consisting of jeans, a sweater jacket, and a scarf all in various shades of blue, were worn and tattered.

"...I called a hobo?" Taylor asked before she could stop herself. This evidently struck a nerve as the man clutched his chest as if struck.

"I am the great god Yato!" the man declared imperiously. "Though you may not know of me yet, soon I will be the greatest of all gods, and all shall love and worship me! _Ahahahahaha…!_ " he cackled to himself, lost in his self-aggrandizing fantasies.

"...So, a crazy hobo then?"

The man - Yato - gave an irritated huff. "Okay kid, I left my phone number around to help people. Since you called me I assume you need it, so what's the deal?"

"Why would I tell _you?_ " Taylor asked suspiciously. Yato shrugged and linked his hands behind his head.

"Couldn't say," he said as he began to saunter away. "But if you're just going to waste my time, I've got other things to do. Later, kid." Without a seeming care in the world, the young vagrant began to walk off into the sunset. Taylor mentally debated with herself. On the one hand, she was hesitant with sharing her problems with a complete stranger; on the other hand, he _did_ offer to help, and a neutral ear could be just what she needed. And this was far too elaborate to be a trick from Emma.

"Wait!" she cried out, stopping Yato in his tracks. "I could use some help…." Yato stepped back up to her.

"Okay then, what's eating you?" he asked. And so Taylor talked. She talked about everything that had been weighing on her over the past year: her mother's death, her troubles at school, her one-sided feud with Emma, and the loss of her mother's flute. She talked for what felt like hours, and all the while Yato stood and listened patiently.

"I see," he said when she finally exhausted herself of things to say. "While that's all very tragic, what is it that you _want?_ " Taylor blinked in confusion as she pondered the question.

"I want my mom's flute back," she said, but that wasn't all she wanted. "I...I want Emma to leave me alone. I want everyone to stop treating me like dirt. I just want a normal life."

"Okay." Taylor blinked at his blunt answer. "I can help you with that…" he said, and Taylor felt hope welling up in her chest. This guy could seriously help her? Was he a hero or something? "...For a price, of course." Of course, she should have known that there was a catch.

"How much?" she sighed. She didn't have much money, but hopefully he wouldn't charge too much. Yato opened his mouth to answer but stopped when he seemingly realized that he had no answer.

"One moment please," he said as he turned away from Taylor, pulling out a cell phone as he did so. "Divide by four, carry the seven…" she heard him mutter to himself as he ran through whatever calculations he needed to. After a few seconds he turned back to her with a beaming smile and his hand splayed open. "Five cents!" he declared.

Taylor blinked confusedly at him. _That's it?_ she thought to herself. With a mental shrug she pulled out her wallet and drew out a nickel from the change pocket. Yato snatched the coin from her hand and held it aloft, laughing as if he had received some great treasure. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a wine bottle half-filled with nickels. Pulling out the cork with his teeth, the Asian man dropped the coin into the bottle amidst its identical kin.

"Your wish has been received, young lady," he said imperiously as he corked the bottle and shoved it back under his jacket. Taylor privately guessed that he was a cape because the bottle seemed to just disappear under the cloth, leaving no contour. "You can expect results within the next twenty-four hours. Pleasure doing business with you!" As he walked away, Yato dialed a number into his phone and raised it to his ear. "Hey Yukine, drop what you're doing and get your butt over here. We've got a job…."

As she watched the scruffy young man drift away, a part of Taylor wondered if she had just been scammed. She highly doubted that anyone, even a cape, could resolve her problems in just 24 hours. But even so, it had felt good to get everything off her chest, so she felt that it was five cents well spent. She looked up to see that the sun had fallen behind the buildings, painting the sky a fiery red, so she quickly made her way home.

"You're home late," her father said when she finally arrived.

"Wanted to take a walk before I got home," she answered. Her father seemed to take the excuse in stride.

"Just be careful," he warned, "a lot of dangerous people are starting to come out at this hour."

After a quiet dinner and a few hours of homework, Taylor readied herself for sleep. After shutting off the lights and was just about to lay her head down, she thought she saw a flash of light coming from outside. She put on her glasses and looked through the curtains, but saw nothing outside. Must have been my imagination, she thought with a shrug and laid down and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

The next day the atmosphere at school seemed different, though she couldn't figure out what. All day she thought about things, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She was so wrapped up in her pondering that she didn't notice someone in her path until she bumped into them.

"Hey, watch it!" the voice snapped, and Taylor's blood ran cold. The person that she ran into was Sophia Hess: track star, Emma Barnes' new best friend, and the muscle of Emma's little clique. Taylor instinctively cringed, waiting for the dark-skinned athlete to heap abuse on her, but Sophia just looked at her as if trying to recall her. "...Hebert, right?" she asked uncertainly. At Taylor's hesitant nod, she huffed, "Just...watch where you're going, okay?" As Sophia walked off, muttering under her breath, Taylor felt something click in her mind.

Taking a chance, she decided to take her lunch in the cafeteria for once, and while she ate she paid close attention to her fellow students. Whereas before Emma and her cohorts would harass her while the rest would mostly pointedly look away from her, now they regarded her with the casual apathy of a random stranger on the street. Even Emma, for all her previous vitriol, seemed content to pretend that Taylor no longer existed, which suited the bespectacled girl just fine. The rest of the day went similarly; by the time Taylor got home that night, she felt lighter than she had felt in a long time.

"How was school?" her father asked.

"It went better," she replied.

"Better?" her father repeated. "Does that mean that those girls have finally stopped bullying you?" he asked hopefully.

"Yeah," Taylor answered with a nod. "I guess they got bored of me or something. Either way, I'm not complaining." Before she could blink she found herself wrapped in a tight hug.

"I'm sorry," her father said softly. "I'm sorry that I couldn't do more to help. But you're strong, you proved that you're better than them. I'm so proud of you, Taylor." Taylor found herself unable to speak through her tightened throat, so she just hugged back.

After a few moments she choked out, "I've gotta go. Lots of homework left to do." She dashed up to her room before she lost her composure, freezing in her doorway when she saw what was lying on her bed. Her mother's flute, polished so brightly it seemed like new. Slowly she approached it, as if afraid that it was all an illusion that would soon disappear. When she reached her bed she saw a note taped to the flute. She peeled it off and opened it.

 ** _It was a bit dinged up, so I fixed it for you. On the house._**

 _ **-Y**_

Taylor clutched the flute close to her chest and collapsed onto her bed, tears falling freely from her eyes. Despite her disbelief, that Yato guy had kept his word. She didn't care if he really was a homeless bum now, he was a hero in her eyes.

* * *

"Another satisfied customer," Yato sighed contentedly as he watched Taylor break down in tears from the rooftop on the house opposite of the Heberts. Next to him sat a blond teenage boy wearing a light blue hooded sweater and a beanie.

"You know, between all this cape business and Kyushu underwater, it's even less likely than it was before that you'll ever get that shrine you keep going on about, right?" the boy - Yukine - asked blandly.

"W-What do you know?!" Yato sputtered indignantly. "That was just a minor setback! Just you wait, I'm going to become the best god ever and everyone will worship me!"

"Uh-huh, whatever you say, _milord_ ," Yukine snarked.

"Shut up, brat."

* * *

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